Physicians
by Doctor Who's Lost Companion
Summary: Post Reichenbach, someone to help heal with the wounds and scars. Sherlock: RPer John: DWLC Fanart by sexlock of tumblr


**Physicians**

It was the middle of the day, John had slept in, ate a lunch, and had emerged from the bath. Looking around the room nothing had changed, he tried to not move too much around for the past three years, wanting to preserve the memories. Sitting down at the desk John was checking his blog when we thought he heard a strange noise outside, but he disregarded it. On his blog a small topic caught his attention "Ghost of Sherlock Holmes with Another Haunts Mysterious Blue Box Across London". 'What rubbish is this' John thought even when a small nag in his mind tells him he has seen the box before. Leaving it alone and craving for more tea, John puts the kettle on and he continues to read the new posts until the tone of his mobile sets off. Text. Pulling it out of his pocket and reading the message sent to him. It's simple, only two words. John drops the phone as if it suddenly burned his skin, but he quickly stoops down, scooping it up rereading the message furiously.

_ Hello John. __-SH_

_ Wait Sherlock you are alive? __-JW_

_ Well, yes. __-SH_

_ But...but...I saw you... __-JW_

_ Jump I know, but it wasn't real. __-SH_

Unfortunately for John the past clouds his vision as the events replay over and over again.

_ I had your blood on my hands. __-JW_

_ I met a man called The Doctor and he saved me. __-SH_

The who? Doctor? John was a doctor. It occurs to John, so he quickly searches through his blog pages back to the odd reports he read minutes ago.

_ Did he...have a box? __-JW_

_ A blue box. __-SH_

_ I think I saw one outside our flat, I was turning around and saw it out if the corner of my eye for a second. __-JW_

_ John, it's alright. That's the Doctor's, he's a Timelord, fantastic thing. __-SH_

_ Timelord...wait if you are alive...! Where are you! Tell me right now! __-JW_

_ In the TARDIS. __-SH_

_ TARDIS? Is that the blue box? __-JW_

_ Yes, it can travel through all of space and time, and it's bigger on the inside. __-SH_

Standing in the middle of the room, John guessed he looked like an idiot, mouth agape, an expression of disbelief and shock.

_ I am so confused Sherlock, can I see you at all...please, it's been three years. __-JW_

_ Three years...but I've only been gone a few weeks...Oh, I am so sorry, John. Time travel, it's messy. __-SH_

_ Weeks? Wow, so where or when are you now? __-JW_

_ Well, I was in Venice in the seventeeth century. Did you know, Vampires are actually some sort of fish-like humanoid organism.__John? __-SH_

Head swimming with too many mixed feelings, John staggers to the window, leaning against his whole body trembled.

_ Um...__Uhhh...I don't know what to say or think anymore... __-JW_

_ John, do you hear a sort of "Vworping sound". __Look out the window. __-SH_

_ Hm...Wait what?__THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL. __-JW_

Outside the window in the street bellow on the sidewalk from thin air, a blue police box just materializes out of nowhere. Before it totally appears John is already sprinting down the stairs throwing on his coat and almost crashing through the door. Outside it was lightly snowing and the TARDIS had finished materializing, and when John slowly approaches it Sherlock steps out followed by another man. Ten feet away a silent stare off is shared between Sherlock and John, meanwhile the Doctor is curiously looking up and down the street holding a glowing stick that made weird sounds. As John begins to accept Sherlock is in front of him, he finally looks past him at the curious Doctor. Tweed jacket, bowtie, slacks, the glowy stick thing, and….a fez? Not knowing who to address John watches Sherlock's eyes flicker to the left near the Doctor, so John starts slowly.

"So...you are...The Doctor? Nice fez."

His voice is quickly noticed by the Doctor who had been staring into the sky now.

"Doctor: Ah so this is THE John Watson! Fantastic."

"I was um..." the two waited calmly as he tried to speak, "I was making some Earl Gray, come on in."

"Ah, Watson, did you miss me? And how has it been, me being dead and all."

Hearing Sherlock's voice for the first time in so long John felt he had nothing to say to him. There were multiple things he wanted to say to him both happy and with relief, but still very much hurt. Here out of the bloody nowhere his friend just appears with this…stranger? Timelord? John felt very uncomfortable that Sherlock was having fun with someone else though unsure why.

"Please lets get inside, its bloody cold out."

"Alright then" ,Sherlock simply says following John up into the flat

The Doctor following close behind begins to sonic everything around him and the living room of the flat, very fascinated by Sherlock's precious skull. Walking into the kitchen John prepared three cups finally realizing for once how badly he let himself go for there werestacks of notes, files, and photos everywhere. Glancing into the room he sees Sherlock analyzing the room as the Doctor did his odd buzz thing. Something really began to bother John as he observed the Doctor because he looked so young, but when he looked into his eyes there was something else. Snapping out of his trance, John realizes the two have not sat down yet as the mess overflowed onto most of the furniture.

"Please, make yourself at home...Just Doctor?"

Sherlock meanwhile was deducting that things most likely hadn't been easy for his friend since he had abandoned him, and remains further silent while the Doctor plops into a now vacant chair. In his depth Sherlock hadn't really ever wanted to leave John, a man like him, John was the first one he had gotten along with. Been friends. Been best friends. His first true friend.

"Doctor: Yes just the Doctor" pips up the young man, slowly taking his fez off, resting it on his knee darting his eyes between Sherlock and John. Although he was not human himself, he could feel this great tie between the pair and the heavy curtain that still separated them. Finished with the tea making, John leans over the coffee table handing the Doctor his cup.

"Ok then, here", John says quickly sitting down next to Sherlock on the couch handing him his cup.

The two wait patiently, all three sipping at the tea, anticipating the interrogation.

"So, let me get this straight…That thing, that TARDIS out there...travels through time AND space? What are you some alien?", chuckling, then turning to Sherlock, "are you a martian too?"

"Silly Watson, Martians don't exist, not till human colonies anyway and that's a bit off in your future. And yes, Aliens, Monsters, all those things you people say don't exist, well...", laughs the Doctor, quickly answering a further perplexed John.

"The Doctor's shown me there is more to the universe than simple collage of open and shut domestics. John, if you could have seen it, all worlds, it was brilliant."

The two gleam at John, each delighted and untroubled at the unusualness of what each has just admitted. Patience has worn out, John throws his hands up.

"That's it! I'm mad. Yep thats it put me in the mad house."

Placing the tea on the table, John jumps up and begins to pace back and forth.

"Mad. Crazy. Loney", pointing to Sherlock, "YOU ARE DEAD!" Facing the Doctor, "and you...well...sleep deprived does funny things to the head yes, yes it does! Something I must have conjured up from the telly!"

John walks away from them facing the wall, resting on it with his face covered. "Neither of you exist, I am going mad because I have looked too long for you Sherlock. Not here...you are not here...It is all a dream!"

Sherlock and the Doctor look at each other with worry as they watch the man unravel. John wants to cry, "Why does it hurt so much this dream, must be one of those livid dreams where the dreamer has control and all sensations are present…" The Doctor nods at Sherlock, remaining still as Sherlock stands up, walking next to John to place a hand on his shoulder.

"John, you are more sane than you know. This is not a dream, nor is it some imaginitive lie, or a hallucination, because you'd have to be much more creative for that. I understand...This may have been difficult, but I had to get away. Too much attention, the only way to stop it was to..." Sherlock pauses unsure what to say, "You are important, perhaps the only person who has ever meant the slightest to me. So stop it I am back. I really am."

Hesitant to turn around, John does when he feels Sherlock's hand nudge him, and when he does he is looking Sherlock in the eye for the first time in three years. He can't help himself.

"You idiot", wrapping his arms tightly around Sherlock he shoulders. Sherlock awkwardly pats John on the back, unsure what to do. He wants to hold him back, tightly but that thought confounds him. 'How much did he mean to him exactly?'  
"I suppose I am at times. At things. Normal emotional things. How is you people get through the day, I wonder."

"Changed not one bit have you?"

Chuckling into Sherlock's shirt, allowing himself this moment, he then blushes for he completely forgot The Doctor was still here watching everything. Looking behind Sherlock he saw him sitting there sipping his tea, watching patiently allowing the two their private moment.

"Are you a sociopath too?", John asked worried.

No, just very very old. And a bit mad, there's that. Mad man and his box, they say

"Ok then", puzzled John, "so gentlemen I suppose this calls for drinks, being that The Consulting Detective has risen from the grave and I have an alien in the flat!"

Quickly escaping Sherlock, John strides to the liquor cabinet, pulls out shot glasses and a bottle, placing them on the coffee table.

"Doctor? Drinking man?"

"Not really, but I suppose the occasion calls. Don't know how I'll react, may start dancing The Drunk Giraffe again..."

At this point John stops questioning pouring some whisky for each of them.

"Well cheers then" John claims merrily, throwing his back fast, "Gaaaahh strong stuff. "

With the burning in his throat, he quickly poured himself another, he just needed to be drunk right now. The Doctor eyes dart to Sherlock, who expresses some concern, leading the Doctor to believe this was all very unnatural for John Watson.

"Now Doc, where exactly are you from? I guess what planet? Or what TIME?"

"I'm the last of the Timelords, Galifrey. Far far away from this place, haven't been there in in a long time", the Doctor replies, his eyes glimmering in nostalgia.

By now John was drinking his third when both the Doctor and Sherlock finished their first, except Sherlock decides on a second shot. It appears to be scotch, definitely not from when he had lived here. Once again a slight flicker of concern for John, and he's confounded. Sherlock drinks again remaining silent as John starts.

"Galifrey? Why not visit, I mean, well TARDIS after all? Go see the friends and folks?" John tries to ignore Sherlock's deducing gaze.

"Destroyed. Burned up in flames and death. You see, we're a race of time travelers. The planet dies, it dies at every point in history. Once I met another one of my kind, but he had gone mad. In a very bad way. So I can't."

"O...I'm sorry about that...that...that's horrible…"

The Doctor notices Sherlock's lingering stare at John who's focus is now on his glass, not wanting to look at either of them.

"You two alright?"

"I am just dandy I don't know what _his_", tilting his head at Sherlock, "problem is."

Feeling Sherlock's eyes narrow in annoyance he quickly changes the subject.

"Did he give you hell Doc? He is difficult sometimes."

"Well, he does have a bit of a superiority complex, so butting heads is a bit of a problem, that and his knowledge of the solar system... Always trying to stay one step ahead. But, competent. He also mentioned you quite a bit there."

Sherlock almost chokes on the scotch.

"What? He talked about someone other than himself. That is a miracle."

Gritting his teeth a little, John pours himself another. He was happy Sherlock was back and yet three years his time, or mere weeks, Sherlock was having grand old times exploring the universe while John was left to pick up the pieces. His anger is beginning to take hold. Furrowing his brow he turns to Sherlock again.

"You could have called or left a note Sherlock..."

"It was a bit impromptu, John, there was only a few seconds before I jumped and..."

Pausing Sherlock realizes that there was really no excuse to leave him like that. "But it was safer, that you didn't know. Moriarty would have come after you if there was slightest sign. I am sorry, though. Really."

"Moriarty! His web huh?" John's arm freezes as it was in the process of giving him his drink. The Doctor pours his second, carefully observing the other side, he had heard of the details before.

"Yes...complicated, John, it's very complicated" Sherlock emphasizes, "But it was safer if he thought you weren't a threat."

Processing Sherlock's words, John's muscles twitch as his stomach drops violently.

"You speak as if he is in present tense...he's alive too isn't he..."

"Of course, if I could make it out, we have to assume that he could as well. That is a tendency for an Archnemesis."

Panic.

"O god Sherlock what are going to do! Wait can't you help? Can't we go back to Moriarty when he was, I dunno not born yet and prevent him ever existing, avoiding everything that has happened?" John blurts desperately pleading to the Doctor.

"See, there are...Fixed points in time, things that you don't ever change, otherwise the world isn't the world anymore. It's just mess. Sherlock and Moriarty and you, John, it all has to happen. If we changed that, you and Sherlock may have never met. Or been born."

"Never even met?"

Now the alcohol is beginning to catch up to him, as John's head swims a bit and wishing to calm himself, he draws a long sigh.

"Well, I guess that's that then."

Meanwhile Sherlock begins to blink his eyes, as his vision becomes slightly blurry but otherwise unaffected.

"Wouldn't even consider it? Am I that important, John?"

John begins to glow red, gulping with eyes shirting to the Doctor and Sherlock, not knowing what to say.

"Um, well hehe, ya of course Sherlock. You are my best mate huh? You think I would go to all of this", indicating to the research surrounding them, "trouble?"

The Doctor and Sherlock look around the room again. In response Sherlock takes another swig of the alcohol.

"Yes, I suppose, if we've gone this far, no turning back now then, eh? Right Doctor?"

"I suppose, but do be careful. I can't always pop out and catch you every time you decide to jump off a building. I already have River for that."

It is John's turn to spurt out his drink.

"River ? Friend f yours..."

"Friend, wife, something another. Always expects me to come running." "Well lucky she has a hero like you saving suicidal men", John says with an unsettle relief as he grins happily, but for a different reason.

"Is suicidal stretching it a bit, John? I'm a highly functioning sociopath after all", Sherlock retorts playfully, making John laugh, and the Doctor smile.

"Come on Doc, a toast to the wonderful Misses! Saving my best friend!"

"Well, yes, now I definately _need_ a drink" the Doctor states, happy to see the situation change. Sherlock and the Doctor gulp down a whole shot, after which the Doctor makes an amusing face.

"That's the ticket gents. So how do you like Earth and her inhabitants?" John asks.

"Something about yeah. But you lot, you're like rabbits. You spread through all the universe and never cease to surprise. Cause every once in a while, a few of you become great."

"Rabbits? You here that Sherlock, we are rabbits! pfffffttttt hahaha!"

Swaying his arm haphazardly and voice is slightly slurred, Sherlock attemots to speak.

"I think you, my dear Watson, are very, very, very drunk."

"Mr. Holmes you seem tipsy yourself", eyes then wander to the Doctor, "well you look perrrfectly fine. O Jesus what time is it?"

Some time had apparently paised between the group when John has an idea.

"Hey Doc, as an honored guest for saving my friend, I invite you to stay the night. Please?"

"I'd love to, but Amy and Rory and River, I'm never done saving those three. I'll be off then. But I'll check up, and if you need anything, anything at all, well, you'll find a way to get my attention."

"Should we stand on tall structures?"

"Or a crop circle in Leadworth. Get yourself noticed, and well, I'll notice."

"Anything specific? Clock or something you being a Timelord and all?" John asks eagerly making the Doctor laugh.

"Sounds amusing. If you so wish, be my guest, Mr. Watson. Fantastic to meet you by the way!"

"Great to meet you!"

Swaying in his stand, John holds himself up on Sherlock's shoulder who barely notices, offering the Doctor a hand who in turn is a bit confused.

"OH! Right, you humans and your greeting...things."

Slamming the fez back on his head, shaking hand and kisses John's cheeks because the Doctor is silly and thinks it's all part of shaking hands. John is startled, but too happy to care, smiling blissfully at the Doctor.

"Thanks for everything, really", he whispers. A grin is returned.

"Glad to Help! Well, I'm off Geronimo!"

Suddenly he sprints out of the room, yelling a goodbye to Sherlock, holding his fez onto his head. Still swaying in his stance, John is left amused and he holds his hand out to Sherlock.

"Come on, let's head up."

"Right then", grabbing his hand and tries to balance, "So any questions about when I was away."

"Were you looking for anything?

Both lean on each other, slowly making their way to the stairs.

"Depends. If I was indeed searching for, it has to be here, after all, this is where I ended up. So deduction concludes, no. Not yet. Or I'm thick. Probably not though."

"What? Back here in the flat? Noooo."

John shakes his head, making it one step at a time as Sherlock leans on him and very tilted because John is a hobbit.

"Why not? Three years, things do change. For example, have you a girlfriend, John?"

Gulp. Calm. Sighs.

"What do you think? One look around my room and you already know the answer Sherlock, I mean look at me I am, well was a mess..."

"You spoke in the past tense. You're not a mess now?"

"I feel better that you are back, no more searching right?", John tries to sound optimistic.

"No, I assume there is enough going on to keep me interested. Have to stay away from the police though. Wouldn't want people to know I'm back, just yet."

'Workaholic,' thinks John.

"Yes, yes of course, should we tell Greg?"

"Greg? Lestrade, you mean, well he is a member of the police force and they are awfully stupid about hiding things, aren't they. Nah. What about Mrs. Hudson?"

"Yes, I think she might notice you walking around in your sheet."

The words slip out before passing the filter, causing John's face to burn again at the thought. Finally they struggle up to the landing.

"You want your actual bed Sherlock or the couch?"

"Couch. It's two in the morning, crap telly is on."

"Must have left it on from before", John says tiredly, carefully placing Sherlock down and wobbling slightly unsteadily to shut the telly off.

"Well, welcome home. Smiley faced, bullet holed wall paper, and all.

"Ah, my Browning MI16. Excellent", Sherlock states, allowing himself to plop backwards like dead weight.

"You ok?" scurrying over, scanning him over in doctor mode.

"Yes, yes, just the alcohol. A bit strong, even for me. By the way, what exactly were you doing with all that liquor."

Sitting on the floor next to the couch, resting his back against it, John tries to act casual, keeping the tone light.

"O the usual, the bottle and I went out together, watched telly, visited with Molly to talk, sometimes I even put it in the cabinet", John replies sarcastically.

"Molly you say..."

For some reason, Sherlock feels a twinge of jealousy, an alien emotion. But it was John, and John made him feel things. Care. But why, why was he seemingly...territorial. He begins slowly.

"So you and her are-"

"No, Sherlock! You weren't the only one upset when you left you know..."

'Idiot'. John scratches at the floor thoughtfully, quite puzzled. 'Was Sherlock angry just then?' Attempting to recover, Sherlock chuckles halfheartedly.

"So then, are you two my little fanclub?"

"Heh ya... what about you? Find anyone on your adventures? Maybe an exotic alien women?" Accompanied with a snicker.

"No, I think I'll stay within my species for that. I did meet a man who seemed to flirt with the first thing he got his hands on. Name was...Jack Harkness? A bit annoying really….

John quickly whips his head around.

"He touched you? Bloody hell what did he do to you?"

"Nononono, tried yes. Then the Doctor threw him off the Tardis. Seems he can only tolerate so much."

"Haha too bad for him, Doctor's a good man...alien...alien man...person…thing…"

Turning away from him, he is relieved but finds himself quiet, unsure what to say to Sherlock when in reality there was so much to say.

"You alright there? Seem a bit quiet."

"Me? Still a bit unbelievable you are here Sherlock, bit of a life changer you know."

John notices Sherlock's right arm dangling next to him, he pokes it curiously to make sure Sherlock's still physically with him, questioning his mind's stability.

"Still here, that's good."

"Yes, well, get comfortable John. Once I have my sheet, I won't really need to leave Baker Street."

As a mute, John smiles fondly, looking up at Sherlock who sort of leans in, then laughs softly.

"You know something John? You're actually quite short."

" 'I make sure to wear a long coat and have short friends.' Thanks, I feel much better." He retorts, rolling his eyes, annoyed. But suddenly he realizes something and it makes his heart skip a beat. 'When was Sherlock ever this close before?' Sherlock is literally inches away from John now, and it feels...good.

"So, three years is a long time...Must've missed me quite a lot. I suppose that means I matter, somewhat?", Sherlock questions.

The sound of the world seems muffled out as in time in space they are the only ones that appear to occupy it. The muscles tense, John's pulse quickens as he makes his decision. Swallowing hard, he begins quietly.

"Sorry if you are not ready Sherlock..."

John leans in kissing Sherlock's lips lightly, then pulls away quickly when nothing else happens, Sherlock still as stone. John begins his self loathing. 'I'm so fucking stupid, damn it'.

"I am sorry Sherlock, I ...I didn't know what I was thinking!"

Since it happened Sherlock was just a fixed point, unmoving. Watching John cower back, Sherlock's shoulders drop and a creates a small smile of pity.

" No...it's quite alright… I don't mind", he murmurs as he leans back in, kissing John, not holding back emotions. Not this time. John is startled, but kisses back, lifting his body on his knees.

"Ok?"

"So emotions...they're not bad. Not bad at all" Sherlock claims in between breaths.

"Just let go…"

Kissing him again he raises himself, scooting onto the coach laying against Sherlock, who cradles John's jaw with one hand, wrapping the other arm around him. Everything seems to fit and he can't help but wonder why they hadn't done it earlier. Pulled further into each other John slips his tongue against Sherlock's teeth, he feels a little self conscious, 'So clumsy Watson.' For Sherlock though their kiss has sobered him up slightly, and yet it's a new sort of drunk. Addictive, the taste, the scent of John. Sherlock will let go, only John, because it's only John that can make him like this. The idea causes Sherlock to fall deeper and deeper within the sensation causing him to kiss a bit more forcefully. As a result John practically feels Sherlock's inner morphasis, he can feel all of those clever defenses drop and it causes him to dare himself to take it a step further. Opening his mouth a little and allowing his tongue to flicker, John moves his hand behind Sherlock's head as he shifts his weight on top of him, lightly guiding Sherlock to his mouth.

"I'm...very gl-..ad to be...home", Sherlock manages sputter.

It was struggle to get the words in, because there was John, enticement at it's finest. Some part knew he should tell him more, but he could wait. After all, how was he supposed to resist John's tongue, the way neither of them showed any sign of letting go. After another minute or so-

"Yes Sherlock?"

Whispering softly as he pulls away causing Sherlock to stop, for once stuck on what to say. The power John had over him now...

"I know I wasn't quite gone as long as it was for you but that doesn't mean-what I'm trying to say is-It was...empty. Even with The Doctor, it wasn't home, not with you here. So…"

Before he tries to say anything more John cups his hands against Sherlock's face, he does not need to say anything more because his eyes can be read like a book.

"It's ok, I was very empty without you here..."

Another quick kiss later, John rests his head comfortably on Sherlock's chest, slowly tracing a figure eight on his neck. In his observation Doctor Watson feels Sherlock's heart increase, pupils enlarge, and his body twitch for a moment. On the other hand, for Sherlock, John resting on top of him felt fantastic, and feeling every part where they touch. He could describe it as electrifying, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is the desire to keep him close. To never let him go.

"Then this is us then. Are you okay? With this, I mean?" Sherlock asks nervously.

"Ok? ...Always."

For this moment the pair share a smile, having found their small patch of paradise where no interruptions could be made. A hands slides up, one of John's slowly tracing finger down to Sherlock's purple shirt buttons, twirling it in interest. Soon the hand migrates further north, finding a comfortable spot on Sherlock's neck. The tips of John's fingernails brush against the skin, and in glee he can feel Sherlock shiver underneath him. Sherlock's practically frozen by the movements, how easily they both slipped into this. He's also very… inexperienced, but he doesn't have to worry. All is going perfectly well.

As John kisses his neck, he twists, but moves a hand towards John's shirt, playing with the collar. Feeling the long fingers tug him down John cannot control his harder kisses while his breathing pattern changes and becomes sharper. The desperate hands fly to the shirt buttons, in bliss he opens each one at a time as he feels Sherlock plays with his neck. 'His look of innocence is completely adorable, he has no idea what to do', John thinks. Watching in interest Sherlock sees a shift occur in John as well. Though for himself he has lost all power of breath, allowing his body to act naturally, escorting him to this new experience.

Breathing becomes short and rampant as he senses the shirt slowly slide off with John's heavy breath saturating the bare skin. Though he's never been exactly in that situation before, he shimmies out of the shirt, allowing John to throw it in some random direction. Impossibly they're even closer. Oddly, seeing Sherlock like this was not new to John and as a new set of kisses invaded the pale skin, he grins at the fond memory of the Palace. Sherlock was being so stubborn, wrapped around his sheet and refusing to wear clothes, but that was the first time he saw him.

"You were funny then Sherlock, with your sheet in the Palace, Mycroft horrified watching his little brother…"

"I assume you were quite the opposite of horrified, John?" he asks cheekily.

Smirk.

"I was fucking delighted."

Taking the opportunity John leans in kissing the detective much more passionately, roughly, running his hand along his chest with his other behind Sherlock's neck. For him it's a bit overwhelming with the rush he's getting from John, again the drug sharpening his senses, and without though he slips his hands under John's shirt. The cold fingertips catch John by surprise. A gasp escapes him. He recovers though, helping Sherlock get his own shirt off now beginning to enjoy the sharp cold points slide against him. It's like sparks through each of his nerves as his hands run along John's smooth bare skin, tighter around his ribs, where Sherlock can feel his wiry muscles. He presses his lips to his neck, slowly moving across his chest, in reaction the muscles tenses up. Suddenly John remembers the scar, he feels shy about his scar, its not the prettiest at all. Whenever he was with someone else, at this same point, none of the other women would acknowledge it was there, trying to ignore and avoid it as much as possible.

Never would he have guessed to find himself experience such short breath as Sherlock's tongue traced his skin, no amount of alcohol would ever compete again. Eyes closed shut, John knew Sherlock was wrapping his arms around the waist, turning them over while John gentle collapsed. Sherlock was on top. He begins trace the scar with the tip of his tongue driving John wild.

"Relax, John…"

Relax? Such a word possible now? With Sherlock's tongue darting against the scar John squirmed, relishing in the ecstacy and further shocked as he felt Sherlock pressing eagerly against him. He did not expect this from Sherlock and not so quickly. In return Sherlock sits up for only a second, just to look at John, look at what he, Sherlock, gets to have. Placing a hand on John's shoulder, lifting his chin with the other, pressing his lips against his. Further intoxicated from before John's head drowning in sensation as he tries to find himself.

"I am not done with you yet...", he growls.

Pushing Sherlock over, pinning him down on his back, fingertips trace around Sherlock's thighs, who quivers. He grabs the rim of Sherlock's pants, but in a moment of sanity he pauses to glance up at him.

"Ok?"

An answer cannot be utter as Sherlock's legs are shaking in the places where John has touched, and he closes his eyes letting out a little small moan. Because John is everywhere, he does not pay attention to what John asked, only knowing it meant more. His only response it to nod. In quick reply the hungry doctor leans his lips down to stomach as his hands delicately fiddle with Sherlock's belt, slowly pulling it out of the loops. The hand hesitates, so before he can change his mind John carefully slithers down, and as Dr. Watson could estimate, 'Circumcised, probably above average.' Using his thumb he flicks the head, sinking Sherlock further into the cushions with his mouth. Sherlock moans, feeling John's hand down there, glad that he was the first one, because there was no doubt that anyone could ever make him feel something like this. He gasps for air, his heartbeat all too irregular, just because of John. It was strange and even a bit daunting.

"Ohhh...John…"

"Hey, Sherlock?" John asks calmly, quietly, "Remember when we were talking with Mycroft about sex and his reply was "How would you know?" Was he saying-

"Yes, John...he was", Sherlock sighs out, cheeks tinted pink.

"Ok, just wanted to be sure..."

Gripping tightly he moves his palm around the head and ripping his lips away from Sherlock, we wiggles himself down, tugging Sherlock's trousers with him, and exposing him to the open air. Delicately he wraps his tongue around, Sherlock's gripping the cushions. Clearly his first time. Wrapping his lips around Sherlock is meet with his suddenly buck against, and strategically John slows down. He doesn't want to overload him, because he was new to it and all. Meanwhile Sherlock is clawing into the sofa, watching, feeling John around it. He had no idea what to expect, he acted on every impulse, convulsing himself, wanting John to want more. He clenched his eyes, letting out a slightly less than loud moan.

Watching this strong man turn to pudding makes John grin for again he never imagined Sherlock would convulse this much, he loves hearing him moan, he wants to hear more of this symphony. Being the conductor he drives Sherlock further to the cliff of rapture, bliss and ecstasy. Never had he been so vulnerable, but with John Sherlock doesn't mind it. Because in this moment, he has been brought down a level. He is mediocre, ordinary, there is nothing to deduce, no previous knowledge, but John is still there. Still making him moan, each increasing in pitch and volume. His first time. The noise causes John to lift his head, watching the living thing underneath him twist.

"Sherlock..."

Pushing himself up again John's mouth escorts Sherlock into another fiery kiss leaving his hands to do the work. Almost falling off the couch, Sherlock is nearly bucking him off, he pins him down, and even that does not stop the arching back nor the gasps in between fruitful kisses. Finally John hears him, he hears the human within Sherlock, such a sound he will be able to treasure and a sweet sound he decides to share with no one else. For Sherlock, his back collapses, panting in a small sweat and with some struggle he opens his eyes. Hoping it had not been a dream, he opens his eyes to find his soldier still on him with some of Sherlock dripping from John's hand, and it catches the rays of the moon from the window as it glitters on his stomach. John has expended most of his own energy, so he crumples onto Sherlock, resting his head on the shoulder.

"Ok?"

"A bit more than okay!" he gasps out.

The two gaze at each other carefully, relieved to have found their haven. Sherlock's eyes dodge to John's wet hand and his stomach. He is embarrassed. John takes notice and licks most of it up, wiping the rest against the coach, causing Sherlock to flinch. When cleaned up, he positions himself in Sherlock's arms.

"Let's sleep."

The two fit together like a neat puzzle or two halves.

"Hey, I love you Sherlock Holmes..."

Looking down at his John, he holds him tightly, to his chest.

"I...lo..love you too."

It was barely a whisper.


End file.
